


The Right Choice

by Whreflections



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Shot, Season/Series 05, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's being haunted by the specter of everything that could happen in Detroit, and he's under so much pressure it doesn't take much to make what's left of him break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Choice

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Wincest...I often get the urge to pet it as I look at it fondly, XD That was such a huge step for me, way back when...and now, now they're one of my OTP's, lol 
> 
> In any case, this was written for salt_burn_porn over at lj, for the prompt, "Put a gun against his head; Pulled my trigger now he’s dead."

_“So what’s it going to be, Sam? I didn’t want it to come to this, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to pull this trigger if you don’t-“  
  
“Sammy, don’t-“  
  
Lucifer’s fingers tightened in his hair, jerked his head back against the barrel of the Colt, and Sam jerked forward like he’d been the one pulled closer.   
  
“Wait, ok, wait! I’ll do it, I’ll do it, yes, ok, just let him go!” _  
  
Dean woke up quick, his breath catching in his chest. The same dream, the same goddamn dream every night now since Zachariah had seen fit to show it to him a couple months ago. He hadn’t been able to figure out if it was Zach keeping it in his head still to show him the future hadn’t changed, or maybe even Lucifer. Or maybe it was just his own mind at this point, replaying for him every time he closed his eyes the one way this  _couldn’t_  end.   
  
He reached over to the nightstand by the bed, yanking the drawer open and pulling the flask to his lips for a drink. It was never enough anymore, so he’d mostly stopped trying to drown anything but the dreams… _God_.   
  
He listened, kept still on the rickety mattress and tried to see if he’d woken Sam up. He could tell by the sound of his breathing when he was faking, and it sounded close to that now but he was too damn tired to be sure. He hadn’t really gotten a proper night’s sleep or even any rest in the sleep he got in so long he couldn’t even remember what it felt like not to be tired.   
  
He took another drink, felt the dull way it burned down his throat without washing anything away. Every day, he would’ve been willing to bet everything that nothing could get worse, but it just kept spiraling down tighter and tighter. He was starting to think it didn’t have an end, that this whole mess was just some kind of black of hole of hell and it was gonna stretch and linger the closer they got to the end.   
  
In Detroit, once he had Dean in his hands Lucifer always told Sam the Colt would do the job, kill him in way that made it so he didn’t even exist, so there was nothing for Michael to bring back and gain permission from.   
  
If that was true, he was starting to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t beat Lucifer to it before he had the chance to use him as a goddamn poker chip against Sam. Hell he was tired, and maybe…maybe then it’d just all be over.   
  
Maybe.   
  
Sam rolled over on his bed then, springs shifting under his weight, and Dean took one more drink before he slid the cap back on, quietly slipping it into the drawer. His exhausted eyes closed on their own, and he listened to the sound of Sam’s breathing getting deeper as he fell asleep.   
  
When Dean fell asleep, he saw Detroit.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
“Hey.”   
  
Dean had his feet kicked up in the other chair, the book about Acheris he was skimming propped up against one knee. He glanced up as Sam came in the door, barely nodding. “Hey.”   
  
“Brought us back dinner…there’s an IHOP down the road so I got you some pancakes.”   
  
“Thanks.”   
  
“Rufus called.” Sam sat the bags down on the table, tossing the keys down beside them. “There’s a crap ton of omens showing up around Detroit and-“  
  
“No.” He slammed the book shut, was on his feet before he even finished the word.   
  
Sam was looking at him like he’d grown another head. “No?”   
  
No, no, no, no, for the love of  _God_ , no. “We’re not goin’.”   
  
“Dean…this could be really big, Like, he’s thinkin’-“   
  
He slammed his hand down on the table, fury and panic warring it out somewhere in his chest. “I don’t care! I said we’re not goin’ and I mean literally, we are not getting within a goddamn hundred miles of that city so tomorrow, we should pull up and head out in the opposite direction until whatever shit is brewing there blows over, do you understand?”   
  
“What the hell is wrong with you? Dean, he thinks it’s somebody important, a horseman or Lucifer, he doesn’t know, but either way, Dean people are going to  _die_  and we can’t just-“  
  
“The hell we can’t! People are dyin’ everywhere, Sam, what makes Detroit so special, huh? Look you…” He jerked the map out from under Sam’s laptop, smacking haphazardly at what was probably the right place. “You found out all that shit about Tulsa last night, why don’t we go there, huh? Sounds like they’ve got a demon on their hands.”   
  
Sam was giving him that look, the one like he was studying him and trying to read his insides and Dean turned away from it, went to the bed and pulled out the flask for a drink.   
  
“So let me get this straight…we can go to Tulsa to face God only knows what, but not Detroit?”   
  
Absolutely. They could go to hell itself if Sam really wanted because as far as Dean was concerned they were already in it, but Detroit? No. If Lucifer was gonna get him there, he was gonna have to knock him out and haul his ass several hundred miles. Even if by some miracle this was all over someday, he was never walkin’ into that city of his own free will again.   
  
Sam’s hand on his shoulder startled him and he jerked under his touch, pulling away. When he looked back, the hurt in Sam’s eyes stabbed into his chest, sharp and jagged and almost enough to break through and free everything clawing at him under the surface.   
  
Famine hadn’t been far from the mark, honestly. He’d given up really feeling anything awhile back, if every damn thing hurt and you started expecting nothing at all, sooner or later the things that hurt just felt like life, and it all flattened out into something you could control. At least, most of the time. This, though…just hearing the place mentioned was an a harder blow than he’d been ready for under the circumstances, and looking at Sam now he could see his  _brother_ , but in his mind there was the future and Lucifer in his body, looking down at a version of Dean that had failed Sam in every possible way…  
  
“Dean, talk to me, man. What the hell’s goin’ on?”   
  
“I won’t go there, Sam. I won’t; I don’t care if they sky’s fallin’ down over it, I-“  
  
“You know something.”   
  
Dean laughed, short and low and a little hysterical. Yeah, he knew several things, and they were chasing each other around his head. Sam’s face when Lucifer pulled the gun on him, cold steel against the back of his neck, the way whatever was left of his soul cracked when Sam jerked forward, the way his voice sounded when he said ‘yes’, Sammy, _his_  Sammy as a vessel…  
  
“-and if we go anyway, maybe we could  _stop_  it, whatever it is and-“  
  
He wasn’t sure where Sam had started with that, and he wasn’t even sure why that part made him snap, but he couldn’t…he just couldn’t.   
  
“Look, I finally get it, ok? This…this  _thing_  all of it, they’re just teasing us with the  _idea_  that we can fix it. They want us to see just enough to think we’re using our own free will, being smart when we go in but once we’re there, it goes just like they plan it anyway, and I’m not…” His voice was shaking, and his hands too he was pretty sure, and even though he meant to step back to put a little more space between them he’d somehow moved forward instead. “I’m not gonna be their tool on this one, Sammy. I’m not. I’ll die first.” And really, he should’ve tried that already, should’ve been less hesitant and put the fucking Colt to his own head already before Lucifer got the chance.   
  
“Dean…” Jesus. He was giving Dean the same look he’d given him a thousand times when they were kids, that ‘I’m scared, Dean’ look that had never failed to turn on every protective instinct he had, but at this point, everything was broken. He still would’ve thrown himself in front of the damn devil for Sam, but there wasn’t anything left strong enough in him to even shelter Sam from anything at all, much less this. “Dean, just tell me-“  
  
“You say yes!” For a minute, Sam in all white was all he could see. “You say yes, because he’s holding the Colt to my head and he convinces you it’s gonna make me dead in a way that even takes me outta Michael’s reach, and I’ve seen it, I’ve seen it and I’ve this other future where something different happened, but either way he gets to you in Detroit and you say yes and there’s nothin’…” He choked on the words, eyes stinging with tears that he could’ve never even tried to control, because this…this wasn’t blank anymore, this was just broken. Blank had felt better. “No matter how the future goes, that’s where it happens, and I might not can stop it, but I’m not gonna be your reason. I’m not.” He’d already failed Sam in enough ways to last a lifetime, thanks. This one…this just went too far above and beyond everything else. “I’m sorry. Sammy, I’m so-“  
  
“Dean, it’s ok! It’s ok, we’re not gonna go, ok we can-“  
  
“You know, I’m not even sure it matters. If we’re meant to be there, who the hell knows what they’re gonna do…maybe go grab past me and push me up on the stage in front of a future you and…” Yeah, he was babbling a little now, but he’d lost it awhile back. Every way he looked at it, this ended the same.   
  
“We can change all that, ok? Look, we’ll just…we’ll think about it, we’ll talk to Cas, figure out what’s goin’ on and find a way to stop it and-“  
  
“You don’t understand, Sam, you…” His chest felt so tight he could hardly breathe, and he could almost feel the weight of Lucifer’s shoe against his neck. “He said no matter what I do, we were gonna end up there. I wouldn’t stop, but I couldn’t save you and I couldn’t stop him and-“  
  
“When did you-“  
  
“Zacharaiah. But I can’t…I’ve tried, Sam, I thought it was just us bein’ apart that did it at first but nothin’s changing and he knew it, he said no matter what choices I make-“  
  
“But how could you possibly have made them all yet? I mean, the fact that it hasn’t happened yet means there’s still time, and there’s gotta be something you haven’t tried…hell, for all we know just telling me now could be enough, because I _know_  and I won’t-“  
  
“If he had a gun to my head?”   
  
The sudden silence would’ve been enough. “I can’t…” Dean looked back up at him, the defeat rising in his eyes as he shook his head. “I’ve watched you die too many times. I wouldn’t do it again. You…you’re all I’ve got.”   
  
 _You know why God cast me down? Because I loved Him; more than anything._    
  
God, he wanted to throw up. He grabbed the collar of his Sam’s jacket, shook him as hard as he could manage. “Well you’ve gotta forget that, dammit! I tried to tell you this before and you didn’t  _listen_ , but you’ve gotta let me go, Sam, you’ve-“  
  
“Oh cause you’re so good about that, Dean, when the situation’s reversed. You know, if you’d been able to let me go in the first place-“  
  
“You know I couldn’t-“  
  
“ _Well neither can I_!” It seemed like Sam had meant to push him back, but the hands that had closed around his wrists hung on. “What, you still think I  _care_  so much less than you, is that it? Because I’m younger than you your feelings about this are so much stronger than mine? You have any idea how much  _bullshit_  that is?”   
  
“Sammy…” He wanted to yell back, but he was too fucking tired. This, this had been as much as he could do, and he was on the edge of giving out. According to Lucifer, everything he did from this point out was kind of pointless anyway, because all roads led to Rome. Or Detroit, as the case may be.   
  
He hadn’t bothered to wipe the tears he still couldn’t quite pull under control away, and when Sam reached up to do it for him he jerked back. Sam didn’t let him get far, catching the back of his head with a strong hand and bringing their lips together before Dean could say a word.   
  
For a minute, he was in shock. There were about a million unexpected things he’d have been willing to bet could happen in his life anyway at this point, but this…this would’ve never been one of them. Granted, he’d  _wanted_  it since before Sam left for Stanford, but that was just one of the things he buried, a skeleton he couldn’t bear to burn. He’d figured it would hang there for the rest of his life, silent and mocking him at all the wrong moments, but now…  
  
Sam pulled back, and that snapped him out of it. He kept his grip on Sam’s jacket with one hand, the other going up to tangle in his hair and crush their lips back together again. That second time it was frantic, a desperate mess with too little coordination. Every time he’d imagined kissing Sam, it had always gone better than this.   
  
Sam’s hands cupped his face properly then, big and warm, and he stroked across stubble with his thumbs. “It’s alright, Dean…it’s alright.”   
  
He should’ve been the one saying that, honestly, but just then he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sam’s whisper was soft and soothing and Dean was pretty sure he was still shaking. Sam’s grip shifted, one arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him into an embrace that brought Sam’s lips to the shell of his ear.   
  
“Dean…”  
  
“Yeah.”   
  
Sam pushed the jacked off Dean’s shoulders then, and he was glad Sam had understood. He was past talking about this, at this point. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he would’ve started in the first place.   
  
He managed to loosen his own death grip on Sam’s collar enough to push his jacket to the floor too, but that was as much contact as he was willing to lose. His hands were everywhere then, groping at Sam through the cotton of his shirt. Right then, it hardly mattered that it wasn’t skin. If he had his preference it’d be great to be naked and doing this, sure, but he’d seen Sam naked a hundred times. Touching…this he’d never been able to do at all. Considering how long and how much he’d wanted this, anything at all was fucking fantastic.   
  
Sam walked him back, kissing him again, and Dean was too focused on the feel of Sam’s tongue asking for entrance to even notice much when the back of his knees hit Sam’s bed. He let Sam push him down, and he opened his mouth to him at the same time, moaning when Sam’s tongue first brushed against his.   
  
Forget Lucifer, this was going to kill him. Honestly, he wasn’t so sure that he wasn’t already dreaming again, or in some fucked up world of Zachariah’s making because  _this_ …if he could’ve had this, he’d have been willing to do almost anything. It was one thing to live without something if you were ignorant of it, if you just imagined how it’d be, but once you  _knew_ …  
  
He turned his head, breaking the kiss, his eyes still shut to keep from looking at Sam. “I can’t, Sam, I…if this isn’t-“  
  
“Do you want this?”   
  
He sounded just as unsure as he should have, as his Sam would have and… “Yes. ‘Course I do.” Hadn’t it always been obvious? He’d thought sometimes he was pretty obvious, and Sam was gonna find out or Dad was gonna find out and they’d hate him then, because he was all wrong and they’d know it and-  
  
“Then will you trust me?”   
  
He’d always been hardwired to respond to that voice. Of course, Lucifer had had that once too. He swallowed hard. Sam had gone still, giving him time, and the palm pressed over his heart reminded Dean where the amulet should’ve been.   
  
“Yeah. Yeah, Sammy, I trust you.” Real or not, that was something that had to stay the same. He’d tried not trusting once, and it hadn’t made him feel better, just emptier. He’d rather be let down than give up, apparently. With Sam, he’d just never really known any other way.   
  
Sam kissed him again then, and he tried not to think. It was hot and wet and perfect, and his hips jerked up when Sam’s hand slipped further between them to push up his shirt and rest against his belly. He moved it lower then, cupping over the front of jeans, and  _Sam_  was the one that moaned then.   
  
“Dean… _fuck_ , Dean, you really…oh God…”   
  
Yeah, he really wanted this, wanted it so bad he felt like he’d been hard for this half his life, and the minute Sam actually touched him that was gonna be it. He was pretty damn close to losing it then, actually, with the way Sam was rubbing him through the front of his jeans and making a sound Dean had heard from the other side of walls since Sam was 13. Sam shifted, pressing closer, his thighs parting over Dean’s and  _fuck_  that was almost enough. Sam was hard, enough that he could feel him so well even through their jeans and…  
  
He cursed, his hips bucking up hard and giving Sam something to grind down against, and  _fuck yes_  it was perfect. Sam stopped him then, his hand moving over to grip Dean’s hip and hold it still. “Not like this. I want…” He got right to the point of just what he wanted, his hand slipping between them and unfastening their jeans as fast as he could, gasping at the sound Dean made when the back of Sam’s hand brushed against his cock. “ _Yeah_. Let me. Just let me.”   
  
Hell yes. There’d never been anything he could deny Sam even if he wanted to, and this…he’d have been willing to beg for this. Sam’s cock was pressed against Dean’s then, one strong hand wrapped around them both, and it was only a few strokes before Dean was coming with a choked cry of Sam’s name, spilling over his fingers. If he’d had enough of his mind pieced together he’d probably have wished it could’ve lasted a little longer, but as it was he was too caught up in how dizzy he felt and the way Sam had said his name as he’d followed him over the edge.   
  
They were a long time catching their breath, Sam’s head against his shoulder, and when Sam finally spoke it wasn’t to say anything Dean had expected.   
  
“So out of all those choices you made…” He was still a little breathless when he raised himself up on one arm, meeting Dean’s eyes as he looked down at him. “You ever think about making this one?”   
  
No. No, he hadn’t.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
 _“Sammy, don’t-“_  
  
Dean woke up with a start, cold sweat sticking the sheet to his chest. Sam had been panicked, terrified, and he could still feel the fucking gun and-  
  
He was in the processes of reaching over for his flask when Sam caught his wrist. He rolled over, penning Dean in with his body and leaning in for a kiss that didn’t find his lips first, but travelled down his cheek until it got there.   
  
“You’re ok. ‘M right here.”   
  
Part of him wanted to snap Sam’s head off for thinking he needed to be shushed like a damn child, and before he probably would’ve, but right now…right now he was just too fucking tired. And honestly, it felt good.   
  
“That’s what the nightmare is, isn’t it? The one that keeps waking you up every night; it’s Detroit.”   
  
He didn’t think he really needed to answer that.   
  
Sam held him close, his breath warm against his throat. “It’s ok, Dean. I’m right here. We’re gonna change it, ok? This is different. It’s…it’s the right choice.”   
  
Yeah. Yeah, it felt like it was. 


End file.
